Bāṇa, the mighty king, had a minister named Kumbhāṇḍa, whose daughter, Citralekhā, was a close companion of Bāṇa’s own daughter, Ūṣā. One day, amidst their circle of friends, Citralekhā, curious about her friend’s troubled mood, gently questioned Ūṣā: “Dearest, whom are you seeking? What sort of man fills your thoughts day and night? Princess, I have never seen anyone take your hand or capture your heart so.” Ūṣā, her face tinged with longing, replied, “In my dream I beheld a man—dark as a rain cloud, with lotus-like eyes, clad in radiant yellow, his arms strong and noble. He bewitched my heart. I yearn for him, the beloved who pressed nectar from his lips to mine. Yet suddenly, desiring me, he vanished, casting me into an ocean of sorrow.” Moved by her friend’s distress, Citralekhā declared, “If fate has brought you such misfortune, I shall remove it, no matter where in the three worlds it may be rooted. Just tell me who this enchanting man is, and I will bring him to you.” So saying, Citralekhā set to work. With her skill, she drew the likenesses of gods, celestial musicians, perfected beings, heavenly serpents, demons, magical vidyādharas, yakṣas, and men—each as they appeared in the worlds. Among the humans, she depicted the Vrishnis, Shura, Anakadundubhi, and, as she drew Pradyumna, she blushed with modesty at the images of Rāma and Krishna. When Citralekhā drew Aniruddha’s form, Ūṣā, her face lowered in bashfulness, smiled and pointed, saying, “That one! That is the one who stole my heart.” Understanding at once, Citralekhā—herself a yogini and granddaughter of Krishna—rose into the sky by her yogic power and journeyed to Dvārakā, the city protected by Krishna. There, entering unseen, she found Aniruddha, the son of Pradyumna, resting on a luxurious bed. Using her mystic strength, she carried the sleeping prince away and brought him to Śoṇitapura, presenting him to her dear friend. When Ūṣā saw the handsome hero before her, joy blossomed on her face. In her own home, a place none could easily enter, she and Aniruddha delighted in each other’s company. She honored him with the finest garments, fragrant garlands, incense, radiant lamps, comfortable seats, delicious drinks and foods, and sweet words of service. Hidden within the palace, Aniruddha, ever attended by Ūṣā’s deepening affection, became so enraptured he lost all sense of time. But as the days passed, subtle signs of her newfound happiness did not escape the notice of the palace guards. They observed Ūṣā’s changed demeanor and, suspecting something amiss, reported to King Bāṇa: “O lord, though we have guarded your daughter well, we have seen suspicious behavior. Somehow, a man has reached her, defiling the maiden who was thought unapproachable.” Bāṇa, distressed by the news of his daughter’s disgrace, hurried to her quarters. There, he beheld the Yadu prince—Aniruddha—radiant and beautiful, dark-skinned, clad in yellow, with lotus eyes, broad arms, shining earrings, curling locks, and a face adorned with playful smiles. Aniruddha sat beside Ūṣā, playing dice, while she, eager for his affection, was adorned with a garland stained by the red of her own breast’s kumkuma, and he held a jasmine garland in his arms. The sight left Bāṇa astonished. As hostile guards and soldiers surrounded them, Aniruddha, seeing Mādhava threatened, seized his club and stood ready like Death itself, intent on battle. Warriors rushed in from all sides, but Aniruddha struck them down as a wild boar scatters dogs. Those he did not slay fled the palace, their bodies broken and battered. At last, Bāṇa’s powerful son used serpent bonds to capture Aniruddha, who had been furiously laying waste to the king’s own troops. Seeing her beloved bound, Ūṣā was overwhelmed with grief, her eyes brimming with tears. Thus ends the chapter known as “The Binding of Aniruddha,” in the great Purāṇa, the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam. Some time passed. Śuka continued: O descendant of Bharata, while Aniruddha and his kin remained missing, four months dragged by, filled with unrelenting sorrow for their families. At last, the sage Nārada brought word of Aniruddha’s captivity and all that had transpired. The Vrishnis, for whom Krishna is the supreme deity, resolved at once to set out for Śoṇitapura. Pradyumna, Yuyudhāna, Gada, Sāmba, Sāraṇa, Nanda, Upananda, Bhadra, and many others—all followers of Rāma and Krishna—marched forth, leading twelve divisions of warriors. The Sātvatas, foremost among the Yadus, surrounded Bāṇa’s city on every side. Seeing his gardens, ramparts, towers, and gates being laid waste, Bāṇa was seized by fury. He gathered his own mighty army and came out to meet the invaders in battle. For Bāṇa’s sake, the blessed Lord Rudra himself, accompanied by his son and the fierce Pramathas, mounted the great bull Nandi and entered the fray, opposing Rāma and Krishna. A wondrous and terrifying battle broke out, astonishing all. Krishna and Śaṅkara (Shiva) clashed; Pradyumna fought Skanda (Guha); Kumbhāṇḍa and Kūpakarṇa faced Balarāma; Sāmba engaged Bāṇa’s son; and Sātyaki fought with Bāṇa himself. The heavens filled with onlookers—Brahmā and the gods, sages, perfected beings, celestial musicians, nymphs, and yakṣas—all arriving in their aerial chariots to witness the great conflict. Krishna, with his mighty Śārṅga bow, drove away the hosts of Śaṅkara: spirits, pramathas, guhyakas, ḍākinīs, rākṣasas, vināyakas, pretas, mātṛs, piśācas, kuṣmāṇḍas, and brahmarākṣasas. He repelled them all with sharp arrows. The wielder of the Pināka bow, Lord Shiva, unleashed a torrent of weapons at Krishna, but Krishna, undisturbed, countered each with his own. He met the Brahmāstra with another Brahmāstra, the Vāyavya with the Pārvatāstra, the Āgneya with the Pārjanya, and the Pāśupata with his own mighty weapon. Then, bewildering Giriśa (Shiva) with the Jṛmbhaṇa weapon, Krishna struck down Bāṇa’s army with sword, mace, and arrow. Skanda, assailed by Pradyumna’s relentless arrows, bled from his limbs and, as the peacock-bannered god, withdrew from the fight. Kumbhāṇḍa and Kūpakarṇa, struck down by Balarāma’s plough, fell, and their leaderless troops scattered in terror. Seeing his forces shattered, Bāṇa, burning with rage, left Sātyaki behind and charged directly at Krishna in the midst of the raging battle.